Apr 19, 2008 01:44
Characters: Anko, Gaara, Kankurou
Date: Monday, March 10th
Location: Anko's apartment in Celo
Rating: PG-15
Warnings/Notes: Language, Violence, Mild make-outs
Summary: Just another day in the Mitarashi/Sabaku household
Of course, just as Anko had thought things were smoothed over with the delivery kid, there was a sensation of something brushing by her shoulder but the poor kid staggering back a few paces was the big clue, along with the sudden reappearance of the pale blue pillow that had nearly chipped a tooth just minutes ago. A few more apologies and bills were offered as Anko escorted the kid out before turning to pick up the pillow. Turning the fluffy accent a few times in her hands as she eyed first the pillow and then Gaara with a contemplative look on her face. Pillow in hand, she began to advance towards the brat, stopping just a couple of feet from where he stood, plenty close enough to beat the living hell out of him with no problem. Instead, she opted to pointedly put the weapon back to it's original position on her couch before picking up the bag containing their food and turning to go back towards the kitchen.
"You're lucky that didn't hit me a second time or else you would have been eating that pillow and wearing your pasta. Now sit the hell down before I make you." The calm voice seemed infinitely louder than her normal tone but it only added to the effect that she meant every word she spoke.
It was satisfying to see the pillow hit Gaara somewhere around the face, but once he turned around to throw it around to Anko, it seemed like the joke was on her now. If it was any other projectile other than a pillow (something Kank had never seen kill anyone yet) he would've already taken a running start towards Gaara and pull him down, but instead all he could manage was a muffled warning from his lips. To his relief, he saw the pillow miss Anko entirely and right into the delivery guy. Kankurou had to duck back into the kitchen and turn on the faucet to muffle his own pained laugh at the spectacle. Although he was pissed as hell ta minute ago, seeing the poor innocent guy get mixed into their own psychotic business was priceless.
But upon hearing Anko's voice, Kankurou immediately stopped if not to take a shallow breath, carefully around his bruised lips. If he wasn't going to kick his brother in the balls because of what happened earlier, Kankurou would've congratulated the red fuzzball for his aim. The delivery boy was going to get it anyways.
Leaving Gaara to his own devices in the living room for the moment, Anko fought to keep the scowl locked in place but seeing Kankurou's own stifled struggles only made it that much harder.
"You know, it's really hard to keep a straight face and be all threatening-like when the both of you are doing the exact opposite," she muttered quietly, finally giving into a small grin as she bumped her hip against his before reaching up to grab a couple of plates out of the cupboard. Picking through the containers to find the redhead's ziti, she dished it out and grabbed the needed silverware before offering a small tilt of her head to the remaining containers. "You never answered me earlier so I just ordered a couple different things. Whatever you don't want I'll put in the fridge for later." Making to go off to serve his highness, Anko paused, shifting everything to one hand. "I didn't even think to ask about you hun, were you ok?" she asked, raising the now free hand to trace a finger lightly across Kankurou's lower lip.
"'Least this says tha' you en't gettin' old an' you've still got quick reflexes," Kankurou pointed out with a solemn face. At the sight of Anko's own small grin, Kankurou stopped trying to hide his and grinned himself, only wincing at the lip again. But it was quickly soothed by her finger, which he held in place for a brief moment to kiss and then to give another chaste brush against her own equally bruised lip. "I've been through worst," he said with a shrug, giving her a longing look when he caught sight of Gaara's food. If only he'd had the time to get injured and be hand-fed.
"'Sides, I'll take this any day over your punches." After giving her another brief squeeze around her wrist, he moved away to the remaining food, picking out whatever looked like it had meat or something with no vegetables. He would've loved to pick up where they had left off, but now knowing that Gaara had a deadly aim with throw pillows, he wasn't one to take a risk like that. Especially not when Anko had food in her hands, which would lead to some heated discomfort down there.
"Did you order yourself somethin' 'ere?" he asked her, trying to figure out which ones were hers and which ones were his.
"Yeah, smartass. My reflexes were never in question or at least they weren't to my knowledge," she grumbled, placated only by the all too brief kiss and the tender reaction to her finger. They were all good signs though, very good signs showing that if Anko were to play her cards right with just the right game plan perhaps before turning in for the night she could convince Kankurou to forget the third person lurking on her couch and focus on her and her alone.
Lord knew they both needed it.
Which was why it was just that much more difficult to hold back the slight frown to Kankurou's question, innocent to all standards but their own.
"I'm not really hungry hun, was picking at some stuff earlier so go ahead and have at it. That's why I said whatever you don't eat can be stored away for later. Something quick and easy to re-heat whenever you emerge from your cave the next time," she teased, trying to refocus the attention off of her as she brushed a quick kiss against his cheek before walking back to deliver Gaara his food before he started gnawing on the arm of her couch.
"Supplement pills en't always gonna cut it for you," he added before she went out the room, finding himself wanting to pull her back and forget the guy in the next room. No matter what he did, as long as he was with her or even with anything that reminded him of her, he was still thinking of the dreaded outcome. His brother couldn't have picked a better timing to come back, now separating Kankurou from Anko in the most effective of ways. So it made sense that if he couldn't be there for her physically, he could at least work on something that might give them more time.
Right?
The words followed her out of the kitchen and into the living room where she thrust out the plate and silverware to Gaara, waiting wordlessly for a few moments for the thanks she would never hear. After the allotted time had passed she reached out a hand and ruffled the mop of red hair roughly before strolling back to the kitchen where she stared at Kankurou's back in silence for a moment, watching him pick through the containers. Closing in the distance just as silently she looped her arms loosely around his waist, burying her nose into his back for a moment before propping her chin up on his shoulder.
"I know that, you know. It's not like I'm not trying here," she said softly, picking up the fork that had been abandoned long enough for the lids to be put back on, spearing a piece of meat and looping her arm up so she could analyze it for a moment. Even food held at the close distance was enough to get her stomach churning uncomfortably, leading her to offer the piece to Kankurou instead. Even fruit, though insanely expensive still even these few months after grocery stores found themselves restocked, seemed to be the bulk of her diet anymore, occasionally some toast or crackers but only in small amounts and only rarely.
If every-one's efforts actually came to some sort of positive result, she swore one of the first things she was going to do was stock up on a shit-load of junk food and just gorge herself for days on end of all the things she had been denied all this time.
Kankurou first frowned at the piece of meat before taking it in his mouth, wanting the chockful of proteins to be given to Anko and not him. He still had a couple of decades under his belt if the Fates were kind and if he managed to get through this. Even so, he let out a mild sigh at her words, knowing full well that "trying" would probably be just what she did, pick up the food, look at it, and put it away. Putting down the fork in his own hands, he then turned around and examined her face, as if that one look would tell him all the solution he needed to figure this whole thing out.
But with his sixth sense not working today, Kankurou just scowled, that bit of frustration creeping up on him again even if he wasn't messing with the test tubes this time.
"Tryin' would be eatin' other things than pills. But I think that'll be against th' point if you throw it up. Not t'mention I en't cleanin' tha' shit 'round 'ere.
It was all too easy to return the familiar scowl even though Kankurou did speak the truth for the most part.
"I managed some rice earlier and about half a peach, whats left of it is in the fridge if you don't believe me," she mumbled, the scowl shifting into some cross between it's original self and a pout. Sure, she had tried to finish everything but in the one aspect of it all being moot if she were to just chuck it back, her and Kankurou seemed to be in agreement in that if nothing else, not to mention having to clean it up was a hell of a lot better then being the one to actually be the one getting sick. "And the pills work just fine at keeping me going, hell of a lot better option rather then being some pathetic bedridden mush. They're something you created, remember? Constantly nagging me on 'em's questioning your own work, just a little FYI there, and they're a lot easier to deal with rather then being tied down to some damned IV or something like the Doc would most likely prefer."
Or that Rin would probably insist upon if she knew the true extent of how little Anko had actually been eating and how much she had been relying on the pills to get through day by day. Kind of like how she had kept the newer symptom of chest pain that had began occurring whenever she got too worked up hidden away from Kankurou, with Rin's very real (the woman very rarely made idle threats and in Anko's ample time spent on the woman's shit list, she had learned to not just blow them off) threat of seeking him out to keep Anko in line, keeping some of the minor details separate seemed to be in her best interest at the moment. Otherwise Kankurou would be cheerfully kicking Gaara's ass to the curb to 'keep her stress levels down' or Rin would have her completely relocated somewhere quiet away from the both of them for her to slowly lose in mind in sheer boredom, another one of those threats that hovered very closely in the back of Anko's mind.
"And just for the record I didn't drag you out for you to nag at me all night, you readily agreed to the other way around so how about stop worrying for a couple of hours alright? Your dinner's going to get cold."
"If I agreed fer you t'nag my ass off all nigh', I think I might've hit those sleepin' pills harder than I though'," Kankurou replied seriously, although he dropped the topic and reluctantly turned back to the food on the table, finishing piling some of the take-out onto his paper plate. The food in Celo was definitely better than Cena, and when it came to food, unfortunately, he was still a growing guy and needed the nourishment. But lately, he had been holding back any body needs just to work overtime, something that was obviously affecting them both. Sometimes he wondered if he should just stop it all and enjoy what he had at the moment.
But then again, to "enjoy" didn't really suit people like him very well.
"How's th' red menace doin' over there?" Kankurou turned around again, plate of food in hand and the other one holding up a piece of vegetable on the fork in front of Anko, testing her theory of "trying".
Eyeing the veggie with a certain level of disgust, Anko wrinkled her nose at the prospect, something that wasn't unusual even when she could eat anything and everything in sight.
"The couch troll should be fine for now, he's got food, he's assaulted someone for the day, I didn't even kill him for the pillow attack and he won the battle of my terrible cooking for the evening. All in all I'd say the brat has nothing to complain about really."
Sighing loudly Anko leaned forward enough to take the small bite off the pro-offered fork before standing straight again, chewing slowly and making the conscious effort to keep it down. Her nose wrinkled as she swallowed, disgusted and disturbed that the vegetable won out over the meat when any other time it would been the exact opposite.
She resisted the urge to stick her tongue out to prove that had eaten it, instead fixing a glare on the tattoo-lined eyes in front of her, practically daring him to try and make her do it again.
Lord knew it was hard enough to suffer through the single piece that was still attempting a revolt.
"Happy now?"
Seeing the glare, Kankurou cracked a lopsided grin, partially happy that she didn't immediately throw up over him and that he managed to pull something out of her. Even if he was more partial to her "loving" side, the other faces were just as fun.
Lowering the fork, he tilted his head forward and held her chin with the other hand as he investigated her mouth thoroughly with his lips and tongue. Finding that she kept nothing underneath her tongue or behind her teeth, he pulled away, a satisfied smirk on his face. The inspection was uncalled for, since he would trust her to not do anything like that (if she did, he'd be quick to remind her that he could forgo days without sleep or food either), but in the rare moment they had together, he'd just about do anything for contact before the next pillow came sailing through the air.
"Not unless y'finish th' whole piece." The half-eaten vegetable was once again brought up between them.
Truth be told, after day in and day out of a particularly bed tempered red-head, Anko had been anticipating the order to stick her tongue out but Kankurou's method, though unexpected, was obviously far more preferable. Hazily she tried to follow those lips after he retreated back, trying to continue the contact after these days without. If it wasn't Kankurou locking himself away, it was Gaara's own need for attention keeping them at a distance.
The self-satisfied smirk went unnoticed as Anko's kiss-hazed brain processed what was happening and the return of that damned piece of asparagus that she thought she was finished with. Glowering at the offensive piece of greenery, she mentally winced at having to repeat her previous action, even Kankurou hadn't managed to completely wipe the putrid taste still lingering in her mouth.
"You're pushing it darlin'," she grumbled, only half jokingly. It honestly frustrated her that a small piece of over-steamed vegetable could twist her insides so, the nausea already burning the back of her throat almost in warning. She could only hope that she didn't look as desperate as she was feeling inside, wishing that Kankurou hadn't put her on the spot like this and hoping that she could manage this small thing he was asking of her.
With a soft growl she quickly closed her lips around his fork, squeezing her eyes shut as she hurriedly chewed through the bite and swallowed with a silent prayer to please let it stay down.
Again, Kankurou watched her intently, looking for signs of warning that might pre-warn him of any discomfort. Quick seconds passed and he found himself a little bit relieved for both of their parts. If he was in the mood for nostalgia, this may remind him of the time he let her try a new batch of aphrodisiacs. He would give anything to go back to that time, or at least back when Anko was perfectly fine.
"Thank you," he mumbled, pressing another light kiss to her lips, also praising thanks to whatever deity was listening in. "Now I'm pretty happy." He grinned at her as he placed down the fork, his hand favoring a position around her waist again compared to feeding her.
"Glad to hear it. Getting awfully pushy for someone who isn't putting out," she grumbled, scowling up into Kankurou's grinning face but there wasn't any of the heat from earlier. After a few moments the scowl softened away as she mimicked his stance she let her forehead fall forward against his collarbone, easily finding contentment in the smell of cigarette smoke and the twinge of chemicals that was ingrained in his clothing, just content in the moment and in the close contact regardless of the lack of anything more intimate during the past few weeks.
"I don't know which is worse, keeping you all to myself and saying the hell with whatever happens later on or letting you stay away while you're working on something that will make everything better so that there is a later on," Anko admitted softly, her arms tightening around Kankurou's waist briefly before rising up to encircle his neck. Lifting her head from it's resting place, she nuzzled her nose against his before dotting a few soft kisses on those lips she missed. "But even though I want nothing more then to curl up with you if only to make the brat nauseous as hell you need to eat before your food gets cold."
"I heard that," Gaara shot back into the kitchen, his fork clanging against the empty plate he set down on the table beside his couch. He had heard most everything else, too, of course, but seeing that he had pasta to occupy his thoughts at the moment, he had been loathe to interrupt. Now, with his food all gone, and his 'caretakers' distracted with other things, the red-head found himself extremely bored. Ever since coming back to Anko's apartment, his options to pass the time had been limited to sitting, thinking, and the occasional grunt or mumble of acknowledgement when Anko tried to pry out some sort of information as to his whereabouts these past few months. Arguments were amusing, and eating - though, he didn't really have much of an appetite, for the most part - seemed to pass the time, but all-in-all he had nothing to do.
Which was mostly why he strove to pick and pull at his brother's emotions, whenever the other found the time to crawl out of his secluded hole. Getting a rise out of Kankuro was entertaining. Anko didn't like the idea, though, and most of their verbal battles were quelled by her threats of physical harm.
Which, once again, left Gaara with absolutely nothing to do, except sit and heal. But sitting and healing was so mundane, and what with his two 'roommates', thinking was nearly impossible as well. Sleeping was out of the question, unless it was brought on by Kankuro's drugs, but lately he had been more focused on some other project than making an endless supply of sleeping pills for his little brother.
And this fact only sparked Gaara's curiosity all the more. Wouldn't it be better for his brother if the red-head was in a constant state of unconsciousness? One would think Kankuro would jump on the idea. But, fact was, that his sibling seemed utterly possessed with something entirely different. Gaara wasn't stupid; he was fully aware of his brothers late-night binges in the 'Off-Limits' room (Off limits for Gaara, at least. Kankuro had been quite averse to setting the red-head loose in a room full of chemicals and poisons.), of Kankuro's overprotective-ness of Anko, and of Anko's failing appetite. Gaara had observed all these things, seen these changes, but had let them slide without a second thought.
But now he was bored, and that changed everything.
Gaara crossed his arms behind his head, leaning fully back against the arm of the couch, his head dangling off the edge of the sofa. Gravity pulled at his growing red hair, and the permanent frown on his lips looked almost like a smile in his upside-down position.
"I'm bored." His tone of voice mirrored that statement perfectly. "Can I kill something?" The innocent undertone to his voice would throw most people off. It was almost child-like in its quality, like a four-year-old asking if they could play with their favorite toy.
Kankurou tilted his head forward to catch her lips again, purposely ignoring her words. There was a ball of guilt burning in his guts, making him try to speak through actions instead of words. Sure, he had a decision to make, too. Whether or not if he was a more selfish bastard to keep himself away from her so he could complete this antidote, or if he was more selfish in wanting to spend time with her as long as things lasted. There clearly wasn't an answer for this, and he avoided the answer as best as he could. His hand briefly tightened around its grip on her waist, while his other hand slid upwards to grab a fistful of her hair and tilted her face back. Teeth and lips grazed hers before traveling down her chin and neck, thoroughly abusing the skin that covered them.
His mind shut out Gaara's voice from the other room, but made him loosen his fingers somewhat from his hold on her. His teeth reached her collarbone and a rough chaste kiss was given to the bony structure before lips moved to make a dark mark in the hollow point in the middle. As much as he was hoping Gaara's voice to stop, it didn't and came back in a strange casual tone, which made Kankurou stop and lift his head to direct a glare at his red-headed brother.
"I could say 'why not both' but 'fore we even do anythin', His Royal Anus is probably gonna really go fuck somethin' up," Kankurou gruffly responded to Anko before he pulled away again, having half the mind to pile food onto his plate to hurl at his brother. Leave it to him to always break things up.
If Anko had any working brain cells left, she would have easily congratulated Kankurou on a diversionary tactic well done, but as she didn't, standing there feeling the warmth of his body disappear and the slight ache as her marked and assaulted skin began to throb seemed like a viable second option. Momentarily she wrestled with the idea of completely ignoring the third presence in the apartment to drag Kankurou into their bedroom to finish what he started but the fact that he needed to eat and take care of other more (debatedly) important bodily needs. Figuring to be in everyone's best interest to put a little bit more distance between her and temptation, Anko somewhat dazedly wandered into the living room to stare down at the upside-down cherub's face.
"No killing anything, not while we're all here. It's too much of a risk and it's difficult enough to keep under the government's radar as it is anymore. I'll see if I can unearth some books or something. Maybe grab you some crosswords or a knitting how-to or something whenever I run out the next time but until then how about keeping your bitching and moaning to a minimum?" Squatting down by the arm of the couch, Anko's hand reached out of it's own volition to lightly grasp at the longer red hair, not nearly in the caressing fashion that she had with his brother a little bit ago. Her eyes flickered over to the few bandages that were visible. "Maybe within the next few days if you're feeling up to it we'll let you wander around a bit. You can go harass Sai or get some fresh air, go wander up to the roof and get some sun on that pasty ass." Which would work out doubly giving Kankurou and herself unrestrained access to their apartment without having to be courteous of their house guest, something that they hadn't been able to experience since the brat had managed to find his way back.
"Aside from someone to keep you entertained, do you need anything? Did you get enough to eat?" With a slight crack from her knees, Anko lifted back up into a standing position, picking up the discarded plate and moved to take it back into the kitchen.
The name-calling was starting to get on his nerves (Did they honestly think he couldn't hear them in the next room?), but Gaara schooled his features into a calm, blank stare. He watched silently as they continued to assault each other's faces; half-curious of their actions, and half-disgusted. Sure, he had tasted blood before, but he had never eaten a victim's flesh. That was just one line Gaara would not cross. By the looks of it, Kankuro was only softening up Anko's neck, finding the perfect place and opportunity to bite down on tender skin. It was a new method of torture Gaara hadn't thought of before.
When his brother broke free from Anko's grasp, Gaara watched wearily as the woman shuffled over towards him. Blood rushed to his head from his upside-down position, but he ignored it for the moment, the almost-dizzying feeling a distraction to pass the time. He frowned at her answer to his question, and was about to lift up when Anko suddenly lowered herself to his level and grabbed hold of his lengthening hair. Freezing up at the sudden contact, Gaara shifted his eyes over towards Anko, his expression blank and his body unmoving. He remained like this until she finally let go, scooting further into the couch as if trying to put more distance between him and the violet-eyed woman.
His nose scrunched up in distaste as he buried his own hand in his hair, pulling at the blood-red locks in an effort to rid himself of the feel of Anko's hand there instead. After a few moments, Gaara let his gaze slide back towards the woman, his eyes considering.
"I'm fine," he murmured, voice passive once again. Then, after a slight pause, "Anko?" The question in his word was unmistakable.
It still was a little unnerving for the brat to actually answer her when spoken to, granted it wasn't something that happened all the time by any stretch of the imagination, but it was happening often enough since his return that she always got a little weird out about this new-found vocalness. Hearing the question lingering in the air, Anko paused a few feet from the kitchen to turn back and wait warily for whatever was niggling at the red-head, curiosity coming to the forefront above all else.
"Hmm?"
When she turned back towards him, Gaara shifted again, crossing his arms behind his head and leaning back casually against the arm of the sofa. He considered dropping the subject altogether, but his curiosity just wouldn't leave him alone. Besides, it wasn't like he was afraid of offending someone - be it Anko, or his sibling - with his blunt words.
"Why aren't you eating?" There was no hint of concern on his features as Gaara shifted jade green eyes back onto Anko, probing her for an answer. Though the question in general could be taken as a statement of worry, all the red-head really cared about was solving a mystery that had eluded him ever since he had returned. And mystery it was. The increasingly later hours she kept, the lack of appetite, and the inexplicably small, tell-tale signs of a slowly weakening grasp on sanity...
These were things Gaara was familiar with, so of course he could spot them a mile away. It only intrigued him that Anko, of all people, would be exhibiting such interesting symptoms. So far, the lovers had ignored these obvious inflictions, or - in Kankuro's case -, tried to find a way to skirt around such unexplainable 'sickness'. They hadn't bothered to explain what was going on to the red-head. He hadn't minded, either, but now he had an excessive amount of free time on his hands, and was aching to do something - anything - to pass the time.
Even if it meant - he shuddered at the thought - small talk.
Even if Gaara was proving himself quite the oddity with this sudden chattiness, he still got right to the point with none of the hedging that she and Kankurou had become quite the masters of over these past few weeks. Her grip on the plate tightened slightly as she forced herself not to glance over to Kankurou for assistance. The knowledge of her illness had been kept between the two of them and Rin and that had worked well with minimal daily reminders and the basic 'ignore it and it doesn't exist' mind-frame that her and Kankurou had easily adopted, only making direct mentions here are there but with the understanding that the other could ignore if they so chose. Hell, she hadn't even said anything to Naruto yet for fear of the added smothering and bitching that would occur for not having said anything sooner, but she honestly shouldn't have put it past Gaara's general intuitiveness to pick up on the broader hints. It may have been some months since he had last stayed with her, but the amount of time they'd all be stuck within the walls would have probably given the brat enough ammo to notice some deviation to how things were before.
The direct question didn't give her much room to maneuver and Anko fought with the aftermath of Gaara finding out. He surely wouldn't give a damn in the most human of aspects, but with the brothers constantly sniping at one another she would not give the brat ammunition to make some off comment that may set Kankurou off and given what Anko had seen so far, she was entirely on base with such an assumption.
"Oh that? I just wasn't hungry was all. Sure you don't want anything else? There's plenty of stuff left if you want more?" Flashing a quick grin and hoping it wasn't as strained as it felt, she tried the next best thing to completely ignoring him - playing dumb. It was enough to frustrate the hell out of any other normal person and knowing from experience Gaara's intolerance of just about everything, Anko held onto the flimsy hope that he'd drop it rather than pursuing the fulfillment of his curiosity.
She was lying. Having separated himself from the main stream of humanity that lived just outside his door, Gaara had had enough time studying and observing people to tell when someone was rambling off a bald-faced lie. The fact that she was hiding something didn't really bother him all that much - they both had a generally respectful approach to one another's privacy. But there was one little flaw in that scenario.
Anko was lying to Gaara... and he didn't like being lied to.
"You've eaten three meals in about as many days." He blinked, tilting his head to the side. "If you believe starving yourself will somehow improve your physique, whatever. It isn't my problem." Here, his eyes slit, and his voice dropped to a dangerous note. "But don't think that lying to me won't tarnish what little respect I already have for you." And here he was done, his arms crossed behind him as he leaned back against the arm of the couch. He would let her make the next move; let her weigh his statement and choose her words carefully. Common sense dictated that he couldn't make someone tell him the truth, but the sadistic side of him wasn't averse to shaming it out of them.
A piece of shriveled asparagus flew through the air and landed with a nasty splat on Gaara's face. Kankurou, with an innocent face, despite the paper plate filled with food of sorts, straddled the couch arm opposite his brother. The more Kankurou heard Gaara's manner of speech towards Anko, the more he didn't like it. Not to mention wondering exactly how and why the kid still remained alive and safe from Anko's own murderous tempers. Kankurou remembered himself appreciating the merchandise on his girlfriend before they were "friendly" and then almost had his balls twisted off.
He didn't get it. But that didn't mean that Gaara could get away with it. Anko was too lenient on him as it was.
"Knock it off," he said, spearing another piece of asparagus on his launching mechanism (a fork). "Whatever she's eatin' in those three days is a hell lot better than th' pasta diet you've been hackin' on."
Gaara wiped the disgusting vegetable off of his cheek, staring at the sliver of food in distaste before levelling his gaze with Kankuro and giving his brother a withering look.
"I won't be sick for long," he threatened coldly, bringing his knees up towards his chin in an attempt to get as far away from his sibling as space would allow. Scrunching his nose at the vegetable still in his hand, he offhandedly threw it over his shoulder, looking back just in time to watch it smack against Anko's face. He stared wide-eyed for a moment before an uncontrollable chuckle escaped his throat.
The cold piece of asparagus clung to her cheek for a moment before slowly sliding down to fall limply on the plate still grasped firmly between her fingers. Even though Kankurou's interference was more than welcome, Gaara's earlier words still burned into Anko's conscience but the sudden attack negated any lingering guilt as her temper flared with the second assault to her head within the hour. It was only slightly unorthodox but the fork fit into her palm just as easily as any of her knives did and it was with the same smooth practiced movement that the utensil sliced through the air to embed into the cheap paneling just above where Gaara's hair ruffled against the couch cushion.
The fork held firm for a few seconds before dislodging, the blunt prongs not nearly enough to retain any real hold but her point had been sufficiently made as the piece of silverware bounced off the red mop of hair before landing innocently on his chest.
"Think whatever in the hell you want. I sure as hell don't owe you any answers," was the only scathing retort she had for the brat before storming off into the kitchen, the dish being hurled into the sink with nearly enough force to shatter the heavy ceramic.
Gaara's eyes widened slightly as the sound of metal slicing through the air ended in a muffled thunk right above his head. He resisted the urge to look up - the thought that Anko had just tried to assault him with a fork was enough to take in at the moment -, and instead stared at the violet-eyed woman in what could only be described as disbelief (It looked more blank coming from Gaara, but his range of emotion was limited as is.). He was still staring when the fork dislodged itself from the wall and fell onto his head, landing almost comfortably on the front of his shirt.
He didn't even have time to react to this new development when Anko hissed out her angry answer to his earlier question and stomped off into the kitchen. The red-head stared after her for a moment, a bit shocked by her violent reactions - he shouldn't have been so surprised, really -, before schooling his features into their usual stony look.
"Now look what you did," he said to Kankuro, cold eyes settling on his brother.
Kankurou had half the mind to fling the asparagus he had at hand at his brother again, if only to show the injustice of Gaara's pointed look. Raising a finger, Kankurou warned his brother silently not to even think about blaming this on him, only because Kankurou was not a firm believer that the oldest had the greater responsibility. It was absolute bullshit and only existed in the rulebooks created by the younger pain-in-the-asses generation. For good measure, Kankurou released the tension he had placed on the fork and allowing that piece of asparagus to fly through the air and land on Gaara's cheek this time.
"Fling disgustin' veggies at you, tha's all I did," Kankurou retorted, his eyes darting towards the kitchen and wondering if he should calm Anko down and or continue to assault his brother with leftovers. "Person tha' should be apologizin' should be your sorry ass."
The red-head growled angrily as another piece of asparagus landed on his face. He swiped at it furiously, letting it fall to the floor, then glared daggers at the brother sitting across from him on the other side of the couch. He was beyond annoyed at Kankuro's childish display of idiocy, and ever fiber in his body was just exuding agitation. His hands were clenched tightly by his sides as he continued to stare at his black-clad sibling.
"I never said you should apologize." A glance back towards the kitchen proved that Anko couldn't overhear them. "She's not worth the trouble."
"Didn't say me, I say you," Kankurou corrected Gaara, scowling at the scathing remark at the end of Gaara's response. Exactly how Anko could've gotten an ounce of respect or compatibility with Gaara fazed Kankurou, seeing that the guy didn't appreciate anything. Ironically enough, Kankurou, with his strong sense of loyalty to Temari, was entirely opposite to his other sibling. After all, their meeting seemed to be the first chance Kankurou even had to understand his younger brother, more or less discover that the red-head still existed after all these years.
Where there was relief in knowing that Temari was still alive, Kankurou couldn't feel anything when he saw his brother. It was like meeting a stranger.
"She's plenty worth th' trouble. You watch wha' you fuckin' say," he growled, flinging a quick succession of potatoes and carrots at Gaara.
"I'll say what I please," he hissed coldly. "It's not like I respect you." A nasty glob of mushy potatoes smacked him in the forehead moments after that declaration.
Bringing up his arms to shield his face from the barrage of half-eaten vegetables, Gaara jerked to the right, fully intent on making a tactical retreat, when the aching pain from such a motion made him freeze up. A stray piece of carrot whacked him in the head, settling in a messy groove of his disheveled hair as if to show the world that Gaara's head was truly blood red, instead of the orange carrot-color of most supposed 'red-heads.' His sudden shift in position had gravity taking advantage of his weakened state, making the red-head flail in a vain attempt to right his body. His arms changed the position of his fall just so, so he landed on the upper part of his back instead of on his head. As for the rest of him, Gaara's feet had kicked forward out of instinct, but instead of being met with yielding air, made contact with Kankuro's unrelenting body and sent the tattoo-faced sibling tumbling off the edge of the couch.
The end result: A flustered red-head half-hanging off the sofa, his lower body elevated above the rest of him, his elbows making a feeble effort to prop his upper half up. And, of course, the disappearance of a black-clad Kankuro might be cause for questioning, as well, though he could be found on the opposite end of the couch, splayed haphazardly across the floor.
Behind tightly closed eyelids, Kankurou was seeing stars from falling backwards onto the floor. The sheer impact of the fall caused him to stop breathing right for a couple of seconds before a hoarse breath could be drawn out. Then once he opened his eyes, he saw potatoes over his face rather than stars.
"Son of a bitch!" he gasped out, furiously rubbing the food off his face before scrambling to his feet. His fists were clenched tightly at his sides, itching to throw a good uppercut into Gaara's face. Instead he was stopped for a moment at seeing his younger brother weakly trying to pull himself off of the floor. Angry or not, Kankurou leaned forwards towards Gaara and took a firm hold of him under both arms and none too gently threw his brother up onto the couch. The impact against the cushions might've soften the blow, but Kankurou didn't care much for his brother's pain tolerance at the moment.
"Y'know who you remin' me of? Tha' fuckin' bastard back home, 'member him?" Kankurou spat out, his hand still holding a fistful of the front of Gaara's shirt. "No? Take a good look at my face an' maybe you'll 'member. 'Cause I look 'xactly like him. An' you're actin' jus' as bad as he is, always bein' so fuckin' cold an' shit to 'bout every fuckin' thing tha' goes 'cross him."
"I don't need your fuckin' respect an' I sure as fuck don't you t'member me as anythin' more than a stranger. But s'long you're lyin' 'ere, fuckin' breathin' here, you show some fuckin' respect to th' woman who damn well saved your life! She's fuckin' dyin' an' all you 'ave are flesh wounds!"
With a final rough shove, Kankurou let go of Gaara's shirt with a curse, trying to control his words before they got ahead of his mind. Letting out a seething breath, Kankurou looked upwards at the ceiling, trying to look anywhere other than the current frustration on the couch.
Gaara was about to point out that the 'son of a bitch' comment only insulted Kankuro, as well - they were brothers, after all - when a surprisingly solid strength hoisted him up off the ground and threw him carelessly against the cushions of the couch. The red-head's body groaned in protest, but he didn't have any time to react to such pain, seeing as how a hand was currently fisted in the fabric of his shirt, forcing him to sit in a half-upright position and stare at the glowering face above him. His eyes were wide at first - not of fear, but of surprise -, but as Kankuro spewed forth hateful words -true words? -, Gaara's expression slowly shifted from shock, to hurt, to rage.
Hit brother should know better than to mention their father around the insomniac. It wasn't good for anyone's health. Did Kankuro really think he had forgotten about the man? Did his idiot brother really believe he could possibly let slip the fact that the brunette looked almost exactly like that hateful specter from the past? Their likeness was the very reason Gaara had been snarky towards Kankuro since their little unwilling reunion. Gaara was always on the offensive, attacking whoever might possibly pose a threat to him - hurting whoever might hurt him. It was painful to relive those childhood memories, and seeing Kankuro's face day in and day out was like twisting the knife that was already stabbed deep in his heart.
Hearing Kankuro's words was like pulling it out, dipping the blade in poison, then thrusting it back in to begin the process all over again.
His face contorted into an angry scowl, fists clenched, body still being held upright by the poison-maker's furious hold. The smallest hint of pain flickered across his features - one couldn't be stabbed repeatedly in the heart without feeling anything -, but he hid it well. It hurt more than it should, the rejection. Gaara had always known he was distanced from Kankuro by more than just time and space, but to hear it out loud... to have it hissed in his face... No. Gaara slit his eyes, staring up at his brother with cold clarity. Each word made a little piece of him die inside, but Gaara was used to death. He embraced it, loved it, lived in it.
And even as he thought these things, that very word was brought up, only in context with Anko. Gaara glanced backwards into the kitchen for a moment, contemplating Kankuro's words, when his brother suddenly released the red-head, letting the younger sibling fall unceremoniously back against the couch, his head hitting painfully against the arm of the sofa. He was stunned into silence for the longest moment, staring straight ahead, only the outline of Kankuro's form taunting the edges of his peripheral.
"I'm dying, too," he whispered softly, the monotone to his voice masking the truth behind those words. His soul was dying, his sanity was dying... his heart was dying. Not because of Kankuro, per say - this had been a long-standing process, in the first place -, but because... No. He wouldn't think about it, because blocking it out was far better than confronting the issue.
Glancing towards his brother only made the issue worse, because Kankuro was avoiding eye contact, which only meant that he was ignoring him. It hurt all the more, because suddenly it wasn't Kankuro standing there, but their father, his cold eyes sweeping across the room, blocking out the silent cries of the little red-headed boy in front of him. And it was too much to take in. And it was too much for his shaky sanity to handle.
And when Gaara ignored the pain in his body, launching himself forcefully towards Kankuro, it wasn't his brother that he knocked to the ground; it wasn't his brother that he straddled from above, hand pressed threateningly against the other's throat; it wasn't his brother that he hissed hateful words to.
It was his father.
"Look at me," he whispered, the poison from his heart-wound seeping out into his voice. "Look at what you've made me." His free hand snaked into the other's hair, gripping it tightly, fiercely. "Aren't you proud?" A stilted chuckle escaped his throat, the sound wholly maddening - wholly insane.
Kankurou hadn't anticipated the fact that Gaara would have the strength to move from the couch and also knock him clean off his feet at the same time. Sooner than he could do anything, Kankurou was down on the floor, having the wind knocked out of him again. But what was worse was that there was that slight pressure against his windpipe, preventing Kankurou from getting the amount of air he needed to refill his lungs again to even move.
Eyes widened at the seemingly psychotic look that was directed down upon him, a blatant amount of fear growing behind Kankurou's eyes. This scene, that face was exactly what haunted his nightmares at the orphanage and even during the first nights that he had been with Anko. It was impossible to shut out something like that, with no mental boundaries and with the whole concept of humanity and morality thrown out the window.
Hands reached upwards and gripped thinner sets of biceps, the strength to do so finally coming from the adrenaline kicking in throughout Kankurou's body from the lack of oxygen and the usual process of fight or flight.
"Fuck you," Kankurou rasped out before spitting into Gaara's face, hoping to break the psychotic mask. "Dying? Don't give me tha' shit. You'll live. Even after Mom died, Yashamaru died, an' even tha' fuckin' bastard died, you're still livin'. You wanna lie in a grave an' wait for th' end, go do us all a fuckin' favor an' pull th' trigger already. Good news is, by th' way you're treatin' others an' messin' yourself up, you've got yourself dug almost halfway in a grave."
"You kill me an' you'll kill her, Gaara. Let's see how you c'n fuckin' live with tha'.
anko,
kankurou,
gaara